


Anniversary

by Yosei



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, I was feeling emotional, John Loves Sherlock, M/M, Married Couple, Poor John, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yosei/pseuds/Yosei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have been married for almost a year. John knows Sherlock better than himself and he knows the genius can be a forgetful brat especially when in between cases, but John never expected that, when a new serial killer appeared, Sherlock would forget about him so soon...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Matters

**Author's Note:**

> *SCREAMING* THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE CHAPTER!

Sherlock had been kneeling over the corpse of a dead woman, result of a new serial killer's—always fun those are—spree, when he first noticed a pair of eyes practically burning a hole in the back of his skull. 

“John?” he asked, without looking at the doctor, as he examined the bruising along the woman's bare back, her dress having been unzipped and wrecked by the killer during mutual intercourse before he choked her and used a scalpel to carve an intricate necklace deep in the skin around her throat.

“Yes?”

“Would you stop it? You're being more distracting than Anderson at the moment.” He picked up a lock of the woman's hair with a gloved hand and examined her roots. She was a natural brunette which seemed to be an odd break in the killer's all-blonde pattern. Or maybe it wasn't the hair color. No. The facial structure is similar enough to the previous victims, but the attack was still out of pattern. After three blonde killings it was possible, but unlikely that he would change spontaneously without good reason. “Actually, scratch that, no one can ever be more annoying than Anderson.”

“Christ.” John grumbled as his frown deepened. “Well, what do you want me to do Sherlock? Leave the room-”

“Yes, that would be most helpful.” Sherlock replied slowly as he lifted the woman's hand to examine her nails. Of course it wasn't the nail color, the second victim—male—hadn't worn nail polish, and the killer was too careful to leave any evidence such as his own skin under her nails. The clothing color and shape didn't seem to matter much either besides all victims being killed directly after a high-class gathering of some sort. The sound of the door slamming against the wall as John threw it open and left jolted him from his thoughts. John seemed unusually upset, but at least he understood how important it was that Sherlock be allowed to focus properly on what matters. In a last ditch effort, Sherlock gently turned the woman's head sideways and opened one of her eyes and found the obvious connection to the other victims. Even though they were a darker shade, the woman's eyes were blue.

-+-+-+-

John sat in the dark, on the sofa, watching crap telly for at least three hours as he sipped his long-gone-cold tea and tried not to cry. He slowly brought forth the memory that always comforted him: the night that Sherlock had proposed.

Sherlock had taken him out to Angelo's, dressed smartly in a dark suit and the purple shirt he knew was John's favorite. They enjoyed a delicious meal, Angelo buzzing about in between courses, obviously happy that the two had stopped skirting around each other and made it official. It was already telling that Angelo had been even more energetic that night and if John hadn't noticed that, he would have definitely noticed the odd way his boyfriend had been acting. Sherlock was usually the figure-head of emotional-detachment, but on that night he was a nervous mess. He smiled and kept looking at John with beautiful eyes so filled with such raw and timid emotion. Sherlock loved him desperately and no less than John loved his detective. But that didn't stop him from being any less of an anxious mess as he sweated to the point where his carefully coiffed hair was almost plastered to his forehead and temples, his cheeks flushed a patchy red. He nearly drowned the table in wine while trying to pour it neatly, but he knocked over a glass, sending the contents everywhere but thankfully not on them (with the exception of John's dark slacks, but he'd never tell Sherlock. He was already busy tripping over himself as it was). And the best part was that Sherlock continuously stuttered. 

Sherlock Holmes never stuttered. 

He knew himself too well, knew that he could get whatever he needed or wanted from just about anyone. But when he finally stood and took John's hand gently as he got on one knee and popped the question, he stuttered. As if he was unsure. As if John could ever say really no to his gorgeous git of a partner. As if Sherlock felt that he might not be good enough for him. It was beyond endearing and of course John said yes and they got married in a small, but beautiful wedding just a few weeks later. Exactly a year ago, today.

John sniffed and blinked rapidly as he put down his cup and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. He wasn't even really upset that Sherlock had taken a case on their anniversary, after all, there were dangerous people lurking about that needed to be stopped. But for Sherlock—after basically three months of sulking, explosive experiments, and ignoring John both socially and physically—to take a bloody case on their first anniversary and basically not even acknowledge John, besides telling him to get out when he was being distracting...

John twisted the simple gold band on his finger as he tried to piece together the exact wording of Sherlock's intricate, deeply meaningful wedding vows.


	2. What's Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A case of you don't know what you have until it's gone, until you can no longer find it, or until someone takes it from you.

John was woken up by Sherlock slamming open the front door of the flat. He started viciously combing through the files he had scattered about the floor while adding a few new ones to the mess. John sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his neck protesting any movement, a consequence of falling asleep on the couch.

“Sherlock,” John pressed the home button on his cellphone, wincing as the screen lit up brightly and his eyes couldn't adjust fast enough. After a moment, when he could see again, he read the clock. 12:52AM. Their day was over. “do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Why ask me when you just checked your phone?” Sherlock answered absently as he quickly read through a file and stood still, probably pin-pointing parts of London all in his head. John twisted the gold band on his finger. Against all odds, they had made it through a full year of married life, though John wasn't sure how much of that Sherlock was even aware of. Maybe the affection Sherlock had given him on the way to his proposal and their wedding was all that the man could give. John wasn't exactly surprised. He didn't want to settle for some boring picket-fence life of just going to work and coming home to a spouse and kids everyday like clockwork. Sherlock was the spark that made his life worth living, brought color to the gray shades that had been cast over the world when John had gotten shot and brought back to London. John wanted to make that spark his own, more than anything... but maybe Sherlock just wasn't meant to be his. The detective belonged to The Work. John should be happy he had captured his attention for as long as he had. A buzzing had Sherlock whipping out his phone and scanning over a text, before he threw the last file down and spun back towards the door. 

“Another body. He's getting desperate.” Sherlock muttered mostly to himself as he started down the stairs, not bothering to even close the door. Perhaps thinking that John was going to accompany him to be reprimanded again. There was a faint click as John slid off his wedding band and placed it on the coffee table before getting up to slide on his coat and shoes. He needed to get out and go for a walk. John left the flat and shivered as the wind picked up. He started walking in the direction of the park, the one place still lit up like a Christmas tree at this time of night to prevent crime. When he got back he'd need to start sleeping in his old room upstairs. Or rather, just 'his room' if he wasn't going to be married to Sherlock anymore. John pressed on his eyes until he saw spots. There was no point in crying. Everything was just going to go back to way things were before. Like nothing had changed. He was still a valuable friend to Sherlock. He could live with that... he could... 

-+-+-+-

That Sherlock arrived at the scene of an apartment instead of another posh hotel room was another tell that the killer was feeling cornered. The first three killings had been spaced out. The first two victims being a month apart and the third just after two weeks. The fourth, the brunette, had been killed only three days later and found yesterday after rotting for two days. And now there was a fifth victim, fitting the general profile of the others, but killed in a completely different location, so it wasn't the events that attracted the killer, but the target's features. As he lifted the yellow tape and entered the building, Lestrade fell into step with him.

“The roommate found him this morning. There were no signs of a forced entry or really any fight besides the bruising around the precision cuts in his neck. Just like the others, he seemed to be killed after intercourse. His hair color and facial features match the other victims besides the fourth and his eyes are-”

“Dark blue.” Sherlock interrupted as he opened the door and walked into the small flat to see the latest victim sprawled out on the couch naked, his newly decorated throat on full display.

“Yes. We figure the eyes are what attracts him and he just charms his way through the rest. We have footage of the victim willingly leading the killer into the building, but there were no clear shots of his face-”

“We're not going to need one.” Sherlock snapped as he gently shifted the body on its side away from him so Lestrade could see the mess of DNA the killer had willing left behind inside and on his victim. “Our careful killer has decided he no longer cares about leaving evidence. He's found his last victim and is in pursuit of them now.”

“So we can find out who he is, but by then it will be too late. Sherlock do you have anything? Any idea where he could be?” Lestrade was getting desperate. It wasn't unusual for a killer to choose his victims based off of a few basic similarities, but... there had to be something else. This killer was vain. He marked his victims like personal pieces of art after claiming them and after leaving his DNA on the last one, there wouldn't be anywhere for him to run. He wanted to be found directly after crafting his last piece. Sherlock needed to find him before then but there was something missing. “Where's John?” He heard Lestrade ask.

“What about John?” Sherlock asked as he pieced the puzzle together. The last victim had been taken in his own flat for a reason. 

“This is the first case with a serial killer that John hasn't accompanied you on, for your own protection really.” Sherlock stood and paced about the small flat, looking, searching and found himself drawn to what seemed to be the only framed picture in the flat. The victim was an army man, proudly standing with his troop. He was living on an army pension, unlike the rest of the victims who were rich enough to afford regular frivolities parties. The killer was after someone with a military background, most likely blonde with dark blue eyes. “He's not really mad I had to ask for your help on your anniversary to stop a bloody serial killer is he?”

“John.” Sherlock turned and scanned the room but his soldier was nowhere to be found. He had found his mistake. “Where is John?” 

“That's what I just asked you, Sherlock. He didn't come with you, so at this hour he must be back at the flat, right?” Sherlock glanced back at the victim, the way he matched the other victims in shorter stature, blonde hair and blue eyes, all of their necks carved up with immaculate necklace designs. Now Sherlock understood why the fourth victim had been allowed to be a brunette, her hair color didn't matter. It was her eye color that was the most important because the shade was closest to John's.

“We need to go, now!” Sherlock ripped off the blue rubber gloves and ran out the door, Lestrade on his heels.

“What are you on about?!”Lestrade questioned even as he snatched up his cruiser keys from his shocked partner.

“He's going after John. It's all been about John. Testing the limits with women and men until the killer realized what he was capable of! They're trying to get back at me by taking John.” Lestrade patiently listened, still confused, but didn't hesitate to throw on the siren and speed off to 221B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> This is kind of a test fic to get back into writing because honestly I feel that this writer's block has taken a serious toll on me and it only makes it that much harder to write. I DO want to finish all the fics I've started and I'm currently working on them so please be patient with me. Thank you so much for your support!


	3. What's Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll still be here. I couldn't leave if I tried, but you won't have to worry about all this anymore because we won't be married. All you have to do” John's jaw clenched before he brought his gaze back to Sherlock's brilliant eyes “is keep the ring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SCREAMING* I'M SO SORRY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN FOREVER I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK AND MY BRAIN SAID NO AND I'M NOT FEELING VERY CONFIDENT BECAUSE IT'S BEEN A WHILE BUT I HOPE YOU CAN ENJOY THIS ANYWAY!!
> 
> THANK YOU MY LOVELY READERS FOR BEING SO WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> (And I know this probably wasn't the fic you wanted updated but school is almost out and I'm gonna work to get the rest finished~)
> 
> PS I HOPE YOU LIKE A LITTLE ANGST-PAIN~

After a half hour or so of aimless wandering around the park and trying to get his head and heart back into some kind of working order, John went back home. Before he could open the door to the flat, he froze with his hand hovering over the knob. Light was streaming under the door, but John knew he hadn't left the lights on when he went out. He listened carefully for any sounds, but heard nothing. Maybe Sherlock had finally come home, but that was less likely than an intruder at this point. Either way, he was feeling rather bare without his gun. Slowly, John turned the knob and opened the door, quickly scanning the sitting room. It was empty. Maybe he was just being paranoid. John closed the door and walked up to the coffee table where his wedding band was still sitting. He absently rubbed at his bare ring finger with his thumb. He should be wearing that ring. It felt wrong not to be.

“I was wondering why you had taken it off.” An accented voice spoke up behind him and John whipped around to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and clothing, just casually standing in the kitchen with a gun trained on him. John tensed and looked for a possible out, but the man just laughed. “Come now, Dr. Watson, don't hurt your funny little brain. You're not Holmes. You're not going to simply think your way out of this one.” The man stepped forward with the gun and gestured with his free hand towards the stairs to John's room with a smirk. “After you.” At such close range, John wouldn't have been able to avoid a bullet to something vital, so he walked up the stairs to his room followed by the very serial killer Sherlock had been after. “I'm pleasantly surprised you left your ring in that exact place. It'll make it look like you had willingly left your idiot husband for me.” He laughed again as John opened the door of his own room to see cuffs and ropes already set up to bind him to the bed.

-+-+-+-

Before Lestrade had even parked the car, Sherlock was out, running up the stairs and into the building. The door to their flat was wide open. Sherlock was about to start yelling for John in his panic when he spotted the well cleaned gold band of John's wedding ring sitting on the coffee table. A gunshot rang out and Sherlock shoved past a shocked Lestrade to get up the stairs to John's room where he threw open the door only to have a gun barrel pointed right at his chest. Thank every deity in existence that John was the one holding the gun. John stepped back from the door and re-trained the gun on the bloody-nosed killer who was chained to the headboard by his own cuffs.

Lestrade had worked quickly from there gathering up the killer, the gun, and threatening Sherlock to make a damn statement and explain this mess the next chance he got. Once he was gone, Sherlock gathered John up in his arms and just breathed.

“John. John.” it seemed to be the only word Sherlock could think of. The only word he wanted to know as he held the doctor, his unharmed doctor, tightly.

“Mind explaining what that was all about?” John asked when Sherlock had let him back far enough for the words not to be muffled. 

“When I had taken a case overseas, I deduced the woman whom had been using seduction to lure and kill as she stole various pieces of designer jewelry. I heard that she had committed suicide while wearing her most prized necklace before she could be taken to prison. That man was her younger brother.” Sherlock explained in an almost whisper as he stared at the new bullet hole in the ceiling above John's old bed. That bullet could have so easily found its way into John. And Sherlock could only hold the doctor tighter as he examined the restraints that were still attached to the bed... 

John hugged him for a little while longer before separating with a sniff and twitch of his mouth as he headed back downstairs, Sherlock helpless to do anything but follow. John went straight to the kitchen to start making tea, his go to habit after essentially every stressful event. Sherlock stood in front of the coffee table and gingerly picked up John's wedding band before joining him in the kitchen.

“He wasn't the one to make you take off the ring.” It was a statement, not a question, but John shook his head in answer anyway.

“No, he wasn't.” John pulled out his mug and checked inside of it before setting it down and reaching for the tea, but Sherlock gently took his hand and turned the smaller man to face him.

“Why?”

“Why? Are you really bloody asking me that right now?” John sniffed loudly, getting angrier by the second as he felt his eyes getting wet. John snatched his hand away and could actually see Sherlock flinch.

“Is this really because I forgot our anniversary? John, you knew what you were getting into when you chose me. You did. I even said-”

“I know what you said! That's not it!” John yelled to stop the rush of words and it seemed like everything else had gone quiet in response. Seemed like everything outside their kitchen had just disappeared. “I know how important The Work is to you. I know how important everything you do is! You need to do what no one else can to save lives. I'm not telling you to stop! I'd never tell you to stop doing what you love.” John rubbed at his eyes for a moment and then looked up at his husband. He'd loved this man for so long. Loved him before he even realized he'd follow the git anywhere. “I know you care about me and, under that made-up inhuman exterior, you love me. But after we got married, even when you weren't working on cases, you stopped looking at me, you started missing the details. **You** , out of all people.” John let out a pained laugh as he took the kettle off the stove and moved around Sherlock to walk out of the kitchen so he wouldn't feel so cornered.

“John?” The sound of Sherlock calling his name was lost and small. Sherlock reached for him, but at the look in John's eyes he let his hand fall back to his side. John wasn't finished.

“You started picking up on more experiments outside of cases. We stopped going out for dates and when we did at least eat together, you were never focused on me. The last three months have been the worst. Body parts have been taking up the majority of the fridge meant for food. During experiments you've told me to be quiet and leave you alone more times then I can count. Case or not, you've left me alone in various parts of London that I couldn't even recognize. And for a complete month, I went to bed alone and didn't even get to see your face when I woke up because you were at St. Bart's doing who knows what! I've had _stupid_ thoughts that even if I was a dead body in the morgue, at least you would have been paying attention to me. I've missed you. For some god forsaken reason, I am in love with you... but I suppose your need to know everything always comes first. And if that's how it's going to be, I'm not going to stop you. I'll still be here. I couldn't leave if I tried, but you won't have to worry about all this anymore because we won't be married. All you have to do” John's jaw clenched before he brought his gaze back to Sherlock's brilliant eyes “is keep the ring.”

“John.” As soon as he stopped talking it's like the dam holding Sherlock's emotions broke and the detective quickly closed the distance between them. “John. John, please. I-I don't know-” Of course Sherlock, bloody finest detective in the world, didn't even know how to apologize. John started walking to his room to clean up the restraints that would probably trigger nightmares even if he got them out of the flat today. “No, no, John-” Sherlock reached for him, but John just brushed his hands off until Sherlock dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around John's waist. “Please! I don't know how, no I can't. I can't do this without you. I don't know how I ever existed before you! I need The Work to function, to calm my mind, but you're the only reason I'm still only solving cases and conducting experiments! Without you I wouldn't be sober.” John tensed and Sherlock's arms tightened in response. “Please. Please... I love you, John. Please don't leave me, you're all that I have. And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” The last bit was whimpered so quietly into John's lower back, that he barely heard him, but he could feel Sherlock's entire body shaking against him, cracking, breaking. “I'm no genius, I'm a bloody idiot and I don't know how to fix this. Please. Please, John, tell me what to do.”

John loosened Sherlock's arms before turning around and taking the detective's face in his hands, guiding it upward. Sherlock's lips were bitten red, his pale cheeks and nose splotchy and wet with tears, and his eyes... those gold-speckled blue-green eyes that brimmed with almost supernatural intelligence were now only filled with misery and John's reflection. It was the most human expression that John had seen on his husband's face since their wedding. John wiped at Sherlock's tears with his thumbs before collapsing to his knees and hugging the man. Sherlock returned it tentatively, like John was made of glass that would shatter reality itself.

“You want to make this right?” John spoke into Sherlock's shoulder.

“Yes. Please. I'll do whatever you ask.” Sherlock's voice was unsteady and strained, trying to keep from crying all over again.

“You won't leave me behind anymore.”

“I'll do my best not to.” John began to pull away and Sherlock quickly clutched him closer. “I **won't** leave you behind.”

“You'll find more time for me and come to bed every night.”

“Yes. I want that. I didn't realize how much... I didn't realize.” Sherlock's fingers dug into John's jumper.

“And you'll get the bloody body parts out of the fridge!” John commanded in an exasperated tone.

“Yes, John.” Sherlock giggled wetly into John's shoulder.

“Then give me that back.” John plucked his ring from Sherlock's hand and put it back on his finger where it was supposed to be. Where it would bloody well stay if John had anything to say about it. Sherlock took his hand in his own and kissed the replaced gold band. He went on to kiss John's fingers, knuckles, and the back of his hand in hopeless worship before he made eye contact again. “Let's go to be, yeah?”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock beamed at him with his messy, perfect face and held John's hand tightly as they walked to their bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> I draw stuff but you'll never know because I got in trouble for putting links in the notes. (Haha it almost rhymed ^^;)
> 
> Thank you for all your support during my seriously horrible writing-block. Sorry I came back with the pain X,D


End file.
